


luck of the draw (you, that's my lottery won)

by parkadescandal



Series: 20kAu [5]
Category: Kingdom Hearts (Video Games)
Genre: 20kAu, Established Relationship, M/M, PWP, Rescue Aid Society, Schmoop, sooooooooo much schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21556066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parkadescandal/pseuds/parkadescandal
Summary: Sora is prepared to face incredible sacrifice in the name of love. It turns out it's not that serious.
Relationships: Riku/Sora (Kingdom Hearts)
Series: 20kAu [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1223426
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	luck of the draw (you, that's my lottery won)

**Author's Note:**

> _"Surely there were wielders who’d taken vows of celibacy for far less than the loves of their lives. He’ll make it work."_
> 
> (Spoiler: he doesn't have to.) 
> 
> PWP, and, I _cannot stress this enough_ , **s c h m o o p** : you were warned.

“They want us to go back to that world tomorrow, but I just don’t know if I can do it,” Sora says, closing a drawer with finality and putting a fist to his hip. “I’m terrified. They’re so tiny.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve ever worked with… small fry clients,” Riku says from where he’s reclined on his bed, poring over some leaflet the King leant him. Although it looks as though his attention is elsewhere, his voice is terribly fond. “It probably won’t be the last—and then there was… the one who cooks.”

“Yeah, yeah, the one who cooks,” Sora waves it away, “but Remy’s a little different. I’m not worried about _stepping_ on him. These guys act like they’re too proud to ask for a ride sometimes. What if I’m not paying attention? I’m scared I’m gonna look down and see a tiny little messenger cap caught on my shoe, and what then?” 

“You? I can see that, definitely,” Riku says, trying not to laugh. “But you’ve got to give them a little—” he pinches two fingers closer together and stifles an honest to goodness giggle. “...A little more credit than that.” 

Sora lets out a huff and turns his face up in concentration. “That reminds me,” he says, staring off into the distance with a distracted air. “I really should write Jiminy.” 

“I’ll remind you,” Riku says. 

He’s flush against the wall to leave just enough space open on the other end, just like every night. He never dare says “ _Come to bed_ ” or “ _There’s space, if you want it,_ ” but the message is clear. And just like every night, Sora turns the light off and responds by climbing in and wedging his way under his arm. Riku closes the leaflet and gently lobs it at the nearest table where it lands just hanging off the edge. 

Sora plants a sloppy kiss to the corner of his mouth, and he pulls back, spluttering—

“You _disgusting_ creature, I can’t believe I let you get away with this,” Riku says, promptly letting him get away with it again when Sora shuts him up with a real one. He kisses the burgeoning grin right off of his face, soft, and slow, and not sloppy at all this time, and tastes the way Riku’s breathing changes from an amused laugh to an uncertain hitch. 

From that first kiss so many months ago there was an electricity that he chased relentlessly. Iit was addictive on a different level now, stoked by the desire to pour as much devotion as he can into every connection. Unfortunately, his _preferred_ method of connection was what got him into this mess in the first place. He would have to make do otherwise. 

The _I love you_ s hadn’t tapered off too dramatically, to be fair. Sora still expressed himself quite liberally on that front, enough for it to become a point of (joking) contention. At least, he _hopes_ it’s joking. At any rate, he’s smug to see the sentiment returned at least once for every four times. Progress is progress—if you asked him before all of this, Sora never dreamed Riku would say the words out loud. 

But Sora could say it ten thousand times, could ferry it over via kiss, could sit there doe eyed as much as he wanted, and still not feel like it was enough. And, ideally, yes: they’d make tender love deep into the night, every night, at least twice, until death do they part. But he takes that option off the table, because it’s still not worth the risk of losing him—he’d rather go without forever than to have Riku think his enthusiasm was grounded solely in sensuality; to think that he decided to give his life to Riku for anything less than the whole of him, from soul to sarcasm. So he’ll stay dancing around the edges of the subject for the foreseeable future. Forever if must be. 

After all, the alternative was far worse. Sora hadn’t made it a day when forced to choose— _I won’t be your friend anymore either. You can’t have both_. Once Sora realized he was the one to make Riku pull down walls around himself again, he was incapable of keeping clear of them. Just one night without Riku by his side was all it took to send him leaping over and barreling through, so when it came down to it, friendship far outweighed the benefits. Indefinitely putting the latter on hold was a fair price to pay to keep it. 

As it is, it’s been weeks and weeks since the drama in the common room when Lea’s hysteric laughter shattered the moment, backed up by awkward giggles from everyone else. Even before _that_ it had been ages since… well. All considered Sora has been very good, if he says so himself. If he needed to prove to Riku that he’d stay and dote in a functionally long-distance relationship (minus the distance), then so be it. He’d be the best at it. Surely there were wielders who’d taken vows of celibacy for far less than the loves of their lives. He’ll make it work. 

Just not before one more kiss. 

A good one, too, not another gross one—something sweet to tide him over until _real_ bedtime, when he’ll finally shove his nose into Riku’s chest and wait to fall asleep, scrunching up his face to hold in all the cheesy words he will not say. It’s more than a fair compromise, getting to be that close, but the mind wanders. Kissing’s already a dangerous game on its own. 

But Sora gambles. He’ll purloin just one more long pull as a reminder. He knows what Riku feels like, after all, and can fill in the rest, can imagine what it will be like now that he _knows_ , knows that there won’t be anyone else for either of them and that it’s just the way they like it. Sora shifts so they’re chest to chest and reaches around to embrace him, hoping to pull him even closer while still prolonging this last taste. He slides a hand down to the small of his back. Riku puts his hand on his waist. Sora moves to meet it. He moves his leg between Riku’s, Riku places his other hand at his cheek, Sora puts a hand in his hair, a flush of heat pooling all the way down to his stomach, then—

“Wow,” Sora says, breaking away and turning the other direction, “this late already? I’m exhausted. Aren’t you? I’m gonna get some sleep, goodnight.” 

He closes his eyes and covers his face with his forearm in the vain hope he won’t betray the scrunching. Riku adjusts to give him some space, but sighs softly. There’s a palpable judgment in his subsequent silence. 

“ _Love you, ‘nigh_ t,” Sora mumbles in one hurried breath to interrupt it as he makes a subtle attempt to smother himself with a pillow in shame. Hopefully that will be that. 

It won’t. 

“Sora,” Riku says softly, finally breaking the silence with warning in his tone. 

“Leave me alone, I’m sleeping.” 

“ _Sora_.” 

He decides he’ll take a page out of Riku’s book and stay awkwardly silent, but he knows better than to pretend to be asleep already. There’s another pensive moment. 

“Listen. I see what you’re… I mean. I understand if you don’t want to, but…” Riku trails off with another sigh. “I don’t remember ever saying _never again_ —”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” 

Riku exhales in frustration. 

“I’m trying to tell you that I don’t want you to _stop_ , that we can go back to—”

“ _Oh thank goodness_ ,” Sora breathes, and scrambles up to climb on top of him. When he bends down to kiss him again Riku is smiling, and he interrupts another of his fond laughs, one of those small ones where it looks like he surprised himself for laughing. 

Riku kisses back with infuriating lack of urgency, negotiating the pace back down to a crawl. Fair. Sora’s got nowhere else he plans to be. Hopefully he won’t ever. 

Without parting Riku shifts up some so he’s partially sitting, keeping him close with a firm hand on his waist that his back curves to meet. Sora shifts to his knees so one thigh rests between Riku’s legs and the other braces him in a near seated position on top of him. 

Sora opts to put the pace in his capable hands, but immediately wonders if that’s a mistake, since it seems Riku plans to continue their long string of deep closed mouth kisses indefinitely. Gently. Slowly. Clothed.

Sora puts a hand on his shoulder and grazes a thumb across his collarbone while puzzling out how to up the ante. He stealthily checks the status of the situation by brushing the thigh that sits between his legs against him. It confirms that Riku will need to move on eventually lest biology get the better of him—he sighs in response to the touch, shifting his shoulders. Sora reminds him gently of their shared predicament by sitting directly on his leg. In case that doesn’t go through, he readjusts every so often for good measure. If _that_ doesn’t do it, then hopefully the measured pant he breathes into his mouth in time with each movement will get his point across. 

It’s at least enough to get Riku to open his mouth against his, kissing wetly while searching for a place to put his tongue. Sora smiles, indulging for a moment before slowly pulling away. Riku immediately moves his mouth to Sora’s neck, pressing lips to where the line of his jaw starts with something like reverence. Sora uses the opportunity to impatiently shimmy him out of his shirt.

“I…” he starts, vaguely distracted by another press near his adam’s apple. Rather than explain he unwillingly extricates himself from his grip, face red, and strides back over to his side of the room. 

“I just… am gonna get…” he stops, digging around in a drawer for a bottle safely tucked inside it. “Watch me?” he asks, surprised to feel shy about it after all this time. He doesn’t need to ask—Riku won’t look anywhere but his direction. He tries to return the favor while sliding off his shirt and doing his own shimmy out of the rest of it, letting it all pile on the floor. Sora situates himself while still maintaining eye contact, then takes a deep breath before he starts to work himself open. His breath catches and his gaze is pulled downward but every time he looks back up to find Riku’s stare unwavering, considering him carefully. As exposed as it makes him feel, knowing that he has his full attention certainly helps the process. 

Eyelashes fluttering in the middle of a more creative contortion Sora is stopped by his voice, and looks up to find him with a hand covering his mouth. 

“Hey,” Riku says, shifting uncomfortably. “Actually… actually, can you… do….” 

Sora collapses with a little yelp as he realizes what he’s asking— _that_ he’s asking, which is novelty enough—and the bottle falls out of his grip and onto his stomach. 

“That’s probably the best idea you’ve ever had,” Sora responds, not hesitating a second to take a running leap back into his arms for another kiss. 

“I mean… If that’s okay,” Riku says dryly, moving to accommodate him so he can have his pants commandeered.

“Do you need some help? I hope you need some help,” Sora says, pushing Riku’s chest until he falls into a reclining position on his back.

“I mean, if you don’t mind, I could use a ha—” but he interrupts himself with a little yelp as he receives one. “Good save,” he gasps after a moment, arching into it. 

“I try.” 

“ _Mm-hmm,_ ” Riku hums in the affirmative, mostly for lack of the capacity to speak, held taut with eyes shut and hands closed. Perhaps he’d been trying to hold onto the nearest surface, but lost the battle before it began.

Sora feels him flinch around his hand as he presses up and is knocked senseless for a moment himself, dizzy. It’s not that he’s never seen him like this before. It was hardly the first time he saw him undressed even when he initially wrangled him into bed. But he isn’t tired of the sight yet—it’s still pretty impressive, and, with a hint of that constant possessiveness he finds seeping through, he is sick with delight that it’s _his_. The cut and the curve of him, sharp lines a testament to strength and dedication—this was Riku’s own display of devotion. Sora’s recently fallen into the realization that he can probably take some credit for the existence of this chiseled marble, warm and solid and agonizingly gentle, and he’d be terribly smug about if he could think straight. But want kicks that emotion right out from under him, along with most of the rest of his emotions too, sensible or not. 

“Shh,” Sora hushes, inexplicably, since Riku is resolutely not making any noise. Maybe he says it for his own benefit, since his mind is racing with no direction. “Lay down.”

Riku complies, settling down, maneuvered into position, malleable. Vulnerable, even—Sora takes a moment to admire his work, and opens his mouth to say something only to get diverted by awe.

“I mean,” Riku deadpans, “if you’ve got better plans for the evening then I can maybe go catch up on some—” 

“Not on your life.” 

Sora settles on his knees and slides inside him; starts strong, quick, with something to prove and an intense need to show it. Before long, Riku puts a hand to his side with an urgent press. 

“ _Slow,_ please, slow,” he implores with a sigh—two requests in one day? It’s the easiest thing in the world for Sora to comply. He resumes at halved tempo, watching his eyes shut and his chest rise steadily.

“How’s that?” Sora asks, finding an angle that causes him to curve upward and lingering there for a stretch. 

“It’ll do for now, I guess,” Riku replies, strained. 

Every ounce of Sora’s concentration goes into maintaining the pace, holding himself steady on one end and reaching out to touch him with the other. He travels up Riku’s side with the lightest touch before finding his hand, intertwines them for a moment before relinquishing with a squeeze. Still keeping up rhythm in his thrusts with single-minded care, Sora reaches to put a hand on his abdominal, feeling him shift underneath it. He slides up along his muscle until he reaches his chest, and keeps a palm rested flat in the dead center of it to brace down for a moment, holding him there, feeling the drum of his heart. He then drags his fingers down in a slow descent and takes him in hand, pleased to feel the extent of Riku’s arousal where he gently curls his fingers. 

“Too quick,” Riku grits out after only a moment. “Please,” he follows up with a gasp. 

“Slow again, got it,” he murmurs, matching this stroke to the former. “Just means I get to see you like this longer.” 

Riku gives a little shuddering sigh in response. 

“Is this the way you like it for yourself?” 

“Yeah. Yeah,” he says, languid, eyes closing sleepily as he rides out the ripple of slow burn waves of pleasure. With a slow shift he recoups just enough to reach up and put a hand on Sora’s waist before curving around his backside.

“What did you do before?” Sora blurts out. “What did you think about?” 

The answer comes surprisingly easy. 

“Nothing, a lot of the time.” Riku slips his fingers inside him where he’s still slick from earlier, and Sora’s rhythm stutters for a moment. “Mostly getting it over with.” 

“But not all the time.” 

Riku shakes his head.

“No. Sometimes… other people.” He pushes his hand up deeper inside of Sora and pauses before admitting. “You. When I couldn’t stop myself.”

“Is that so?” Sora blurts again, tone a little snottier than is probably warranted.

“When I gave in… all I could imagine was riling you up. Then taking care of you. I wanted… I wanted to work you for ages. To be the reason you…” 

“I think it’s working,” Sora interrupts, a shiver rolling through him. A little guiltily, he thinks of Riku, alone, hastily jerking himself off so many times over the years to fantasies of them together, of being the one to pleasure him… How many times would Sora have been physically just out of reach? When Riku lost control, what caused it? How many times did their interactions rock him enough to send him scrabbling for relief immediately upon parting? Or, with an even sharper thrill, Sora wonders: how many times had he seen him immediately _after_? They’d spent their entire lives in close proximity, so it was bound to happen—would Riku ever think he conjured Sora to his side in reality while still coming down off visions of having him hot and heaving in front of him? Sora breathes out, thrown off again—he arches and sinks further onto Riku’s hand, stifling a series of sharp involuntary cries. He recovers with a groan. 

“That’s not all, though,” Sora says more than asks, picking up with renewed vigor. Riku falters, tensing up, and turns his head as if to hide his face in the sheets—dead giveaway. “Thought so. Who else?” 

He’s reticent to share. Sora’s claimed a wicked curl in his gut, and he thrusts with a little more force than before, speeding up at an increment. 

“Who am I winning out over?” he muses. “Who else could have seen this? Who else did you think about?” Another thrust. He sees him exhale, eyes still screwed tight shut. “You look so perfect right now, you look… who else do you think about this way? Who’s good enough?” He’s suddenly struck by a thought, sure he’s right. “Is it Terra?” 

Riku stops a moan before it starts, mortified—Sora feels him twitch under his hand. He’s flushed from the chest up, face buried in his arm—a tacit _yes_. He laughs. 

“Can’t blame you.” 

“Thing is,” Riku rallies after a moment, pressing himself deeper into the mattress, “there’s a big difference. He doesn’t have your smile.” 

Sora grins, taken over by a gasp as Riku bucks his hips beneath him. 

“You know, I’m a little busy right now,” Sora responds in a daze, panting in between. “But I want you to know that when I’m done I’m gonna kiss you lots. I’m gonna kiss you so much.” 

Riku responds with a laugh that comes out closer to a giggle, and it’s only a second before the both of them dissolve into laughter for a moment. Still grinning, Sora picks up again, quicker, ready to bring it to a denouement. He relishes the way Riku’s laugh catches when he steals it away.

“You really are perfect. You’ve got me… You look so good like this, do you know how much I love it?” Riku writhes beneath, voicing a near whine—the hand he had inside him now falls to grasp for purchase on the back of Sora’s thigh. “I dream about it. You’re the only one who makes me this way. I can’t believe how much I want you, all the time, you—” 

Sora stops, knocked out of it for a moment by Riku’s shout of desperation—he’s overstimulated. Sora feels a spike of lust go straight through him in answer. “Can you feel me? I want to show you, I want you to feel just as good. Tell me how it feels, I want to hear it. Can you show me? Please, can you tell me that it’s—”

Head back, chest up, Riku shouts out a sob; he’s ruined, cries out as he comes in forceful waves all across his front and all over Sora’s hand. Sora gasps at the shock and cries out in exchange, still working on his own climax inside of him. He’s pushed closer when Riku, wrecked and overwhelmed, grasps loudly at relief from a cascade of sensation well after he’s already stretched past his breaking point. Sora chokes on a scream and comes himself, groaning all the way through it, each pulse pitched with distress. Choking out the last of it, he flails out, struggling for balance, and collapses almost fully atop him. 

He’s boneless with the exertion, can’t hold himself up by the arms to save his life, but after a short eternity panting and blinking at the sparks behind his eyes he feels Riku pull close to his chest in an embrace. 

Sora dispels the vertigo with another few shuddering breaths and cranes to look up at him, shamelessly dreamy. It’s just a few seconds before he catches his gaze, and they’re locked into it for a stretch. It doesn’t last long. Before long, Sora is scootching up across his chest to find the best angle to straddle him and make good on his promise of kisses. Riku’s arm drops to hold him loosely at the waist. 

He starts lazy, calling back to the sloppiness of earlier, and feels Riku smile around it. His arm tightens around him, and Sora feels compelled by a tug of emotion; he changes his strategy, dropping more into the reverence Riku had shown him earlier.

Riku has never been afraid to be rough with him, to pull Sora past his limits and push him out of harm’s way with nothing but his well-being in mind. But right now it’s neither. He’s just keeping him close. Sora would resent being treated like fragile cargo, but he finds he doesn’t mind—this isn’t it. It’s a barrier spell cast on the moment. There’s nowhere in the universe he could possibly be safer. 

He feels that rush again, the wave of adoration—in fact, the universe should _know_. But, as always, he’ll make do. _I’m yours_ , he thinks with certainty, bursting at the seams to share it. He says it with a kiss to his forehead, to his brow, to his eye, to his jaw. He looks down and is disarmed by Riku’s expression. He’s seen shades of it before, but falters under the _want_ it holds—he’s awed all over again when the description his brain provides for it is _lovesick_. Sora continues, placing another press to the corner of his mouth and lingering there before he travels down to his jaw, then circles up to press his lips on his nose. He watches Riku negotiate with the embarrassed laugh threatening to escape him as he realizes what Sora is doing. Undeterred, Sora then reaches up to give his cheek a brief caress. 

He settles down and shoves his nose into Riku’s collarbone, presses in so that he’ll feel him speak it beyond the shadow of a doubt. He moves his lips around a low _I love you. I love you. I love you,_ and Riku does laugh this time, soft and shaky around the edges, voice lilting up with a shade of wonder. 

“Heard you the first time.” 

Sora smiles, and crosses his arms over Riku’s chest to rest there while he patiently stares him down.

“I love you too,” Riku finally concedes. 

Sora looks on, expectant. He’s got a list of demands, and tries not to break as he pouts silently, not backing down. 

“Fine. I love you too. I love you too.” 

The hand Riku has still wrapped around his back supports him as he sits up and takes him along, shuffling for a better angle. Riku puts his face in his hair for a moment and, not one to be bested, whispers one more _I love you too_ to the top of Sora’s head for good measure. 

They settle into familiar silence, a camaraderie that predates shared afterglow by eons. Trying not to succumb to closed eyes, Sora grins. 

“Can’t remember what I thought was so great about all of that. Kind of overrated, if you ask me.” 

Riku laughs, surprised. 

“Kind of boring, yeah.” He smiles aimlessly again. “I won’t bother you with it again.” 

“What a relief.” 

“You’re a mess. Get up. Go clean up, or get some water, or—” 

“Nope,” Sora says, throwing his arms around Riku’s shoulders so he won’t nudge him along. He’s returned by muscle memory to the post-coital octopus hold. “Don’t put me through that. I won’t survive it. If we stick together then that’s it. There are worse fates.” 

“I just rolled my eyes at you. Could you tell I rolled my eyes at you? I’ll do it again in case you didn’t feel it.” 

“Hey,” Sora greets, moving past it with a grin and meeting his eye. “I know you don’t like when I say it too much, but I love you.” 

“That’s just hormones.” 

“I loved you before hormones and I will love you after hormones.” 

Riku looks away, shaking his head. 

“No. In fact, that’s hormones too. It’s artificial, just a side effect from sleeping together. If you hadn’t started this whole thing then you’d still be blissfully unaware. And unattached. So it’s your fault.”

“Shut up.” Sora cranes up to kiss him. “You’re so _stupid_ , _please_ shut up. And they wonder where I get it from. I spent my whole life copying you—it was bound to rub off on me eventually.” 

“Also your fault.” 

“You really think that, don’t you? Don’t lie and say you’re joking. It’s not _artificial_ , you jerk. When are you gonna trust me?” 

“I do _trust_ you, idiot, I...”

But Riku trails off, all his worries left unsaid. Sora can’t bring himself to be angry about it. 

“Listen. If there was another way to show you I would. I will. We know enough wizards, they can figure something out. Or some place we’ve been has to have mind reading already. I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m in love with you. Get it through your skull already. I’m not tired yet but you can go digging around in my dreams if you’ve gotta. It’s just you in there anyway. For obvious reasons I’d rather us both be conscious right now but I’ll make the sacrifice.” 

Riku laughs through the tail end of his little monologue and mutters something unintelligible. 

“What _now_?” 

“I don’t.” 

“Don’t what?” 

“I don’t dislike it when you say it.” 

“Okay…?” 

“It’s... Overwhelming. Saying it back doesn’t feel good enough, almost.” 

“Okay, well it is. Have you tried believing me when I say it is?” 

Riku is quiet at that, but with a sturdy arm presses them even closer together. They resume a comfortable silence.

Through it Sora thinks on that day’s mission, and of little Bernard’s palpable terror as he wrest his messenger cap between his tiny paws. The only times he didn’t fuss and fiddle with it were when he was otherwise occupied checking for the little box he kept stolen away. Each time Bianca was near, his arm shot into his pocket to make sure it was still there, safely out of sight. Sora latches on to a thought. 

“Maybe it’d be nice,” he mumbles absently. “Like little mice.” 

Riku huffs a noise of bemusement into his hair. 

“What would you think?” Sora responds, wriggling up to ask him to his face, though he’s already made a decision. “What if I started looking at rings?” 

Riku freezes in disbelief. 

“I dunno,” Sora says, suddenly embarrassed. “I just thought, you know… maybe one day. I see people get married all the time to their… their _partners_ , I guess. They worked together for ages and knew each other really well and then… decided to do something official about it.”

“You mean mice.” 

“I mean _you and me_ , stupid,” he snaps, but when he looks back up it’s to find him staring back with lips pursed and face uncertain. Sora softens immediately. “So just think on it, okay? One day. I wanna marry you. It’s the best next step I can think of.” 

“I’ll think,” Riku says softly. His eyes are a little wet. 

“Okay, so just so we’re clear, I did just propose to y—” but Riku steals the rest of it and stops him cold with with a kiss, the same kind of slow as earlier, just sweet and light enough that Sora’s sure it’s only a ploy to shut him up. He breaks away for a breath. “So is that a yes? Because summer’s pretty lots of places but autumn’s not too bad at home—” 

He’s interrupted again, and decides maybe planning can wait. Feeling an urge resurface Sora opens his mouth against his with a sigh, hoping to veer away from a sleepy goodnight. He moves into it, wrapping his arms around Riku once more. 

_“No_ , no. I can’t believe… are you _serious_?” Riku pulls back and spits out an affronted protest. 

“Do you think it’s cheating, or could cure magic work for—”

“Oh, _jeez_ ,” Riku whuffs,“you’re insane. I never trained for this. Why didn’t anyone tell me this was part of the job? I never could have prepared.” 

“No, I think it’s cheating,” Sora decides independently. “Not that I’m not willing to try in a bit anyway, but I’m sure you can manage for now.”

He tugs at Riku by the shoulders, making sure he’ll come along when he wriggles to his back. Sora holds him there in place as he stretches his legs out beneath him, smiling conspiratorially in no particular direction. He’s expecting his indignant expression when he finally looks back up, but he’s thrown to see his gaze is completely enamored.

“Autumn’s fine,” Riku whispers with a smile, and Sora yanks him solidly on top with a raucous laugh as they tumble two to one once more. 

**Author's Note:**

> The nature of _Kingdom Hearts_ fandom is that every so often someone intentionally ends up referencing several specific vermin from the Disney canon in fic based around some absolute lewdness. Mice. Why'd it'd have to be mice. 
> 
> [title](https://youtu.be/pLuQ0MGLBXU) from a song off the same album the title for the first one came from to tie it all up on a happy note. it's bubbly love anthem fodder and one of my all time favorites. 
> 
> happy (belated) anniversary, 20k. i’m that dude who gets real attached to her own ficverse—i’ve been living here for a while. It’s a relief to mark it closed, but that also doesn’t mean anything. all the jokes made across many a chat session aside, there’s still probably a ton left to milk out of it. like, oh my god, riku honey. please get some help. and of course i now want to explore everything about this particular iteration of vanitas—what’s his deal? and, based on conversations here and there, i’m always hoping i can wrangle someone into putting up their own interpretation. there’s a lot of ground left uncovered. soriku are like... so, so gross. 
> 
> thank you for reading. find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/parkadescandal).


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